


Masque

by TWE



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Hawkecest, M/M, OOCness, Post-Dragon Age II, Warden Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5951653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWE/pseuds/TWE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett Hawke hates that he has to be the hero. Especially when it comes to the masquerade ball designed to set him up with a suitor. When someone approaches him through the crowd, will it be love at first sight or something more sinister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masque

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fragilespark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilespark/gifts).



> This is actually just a gratuitous excuse for sex.   
> If you're this far in, the additional warnings are: INCEST, WARDEN CARVER, LEATHER PANTS, WAFF.
> 
> Feliz cumpleaños mi gatita.

Garrett Hawke cradled the flute of champagne between two fingers and allowed it to settle at the palm of his hand. That same hand hung at his side, idle, as he leaned against the wall and watched the other aristocrats tumble about the room to the too jovial waltz playing in the oversize ballroom.

 

Hawke hated masquerade balls, mainly because he didn’t recognise anyone when they _weren’t_ wearing the masks. Though, he supposed, that was the reason to do this in the first place. So everyone was on equal footing.

 

But with each mask, as they twirled and passed him on the dancefloor, all he could think of were the people whose faces he did know. That one there, was Anders. The man who had opened his mind enough to know that cock was better played with by another. That man there had his hips and the long legs that connected to it.

 

His own cock twitched just slightly in the memory.

 

Then there was the darker skinned masked waiter moving around the edge of the dancefloor; the pointed ears hidden underneath a mop of blonde hair. Fenris. Where Anders had shown him the touch of a man was more pleasing than a woman, Fenris had shown him the value of loving that man.

 

But his love, the man he’d practically promised his life to, was chasing the last of his ghosts in Tevinter with Isabella. Honestly, Garrett imagined them together keeping each other warm during the longer nights that the north had to hold.

 

Which then came down to the reason for the party: he was meant to be finding a suitor; one of noble birth to take the name Hawke and produce the next generation of heroes for Kirkwall and the world. Maybe _that_ was the real reason he hated these parties. There was only one real person he could see carrying on the Hawke name.

 

The other faces here were a blur. Or perhaps the alcohol was finally starting to kick in and force him to unwind. He’d all but turned from the party when the movement caught his attention. A man in blue, tall but not too tall, with a vest instead of the usual noble shirt strode towards him with purpose. It was as if the dancefloor had parted just to let this Prince Charming wannabe come to him.

 

Hawke would have said that the blue in his shirt brought out his eyes, but the mask he wore covered his eyes and nose. Everything but those rose petal lips which were slick with a fresh wet from his tongue. A large hand grabbed his wrist and dragged him from the ballroom, moving through the corridors like he’d lived here before and found empty bedroom.

 

“It is customary to say please before threatening to molest the ho—mmph,” Hawke’s words were cut short as a the stranger took the opportunity to steal a kiss and taste the inside of his mouth with a groan-worthy skill of tongue. Garrett’s head swam, his eyes rolling slightly as he sat down against the bed and allowed himself to be guided lower as the other man climbed on top.

 

Garrett’s hands moved on instinct; his weaker hand curled around the strangers neck to keep and fight back into the kiss, the other moved instantly inside the dark leather britches that left nothing to the imagination.

 

In the back of his mind the scent of the other was familiar, but his mind refused to add more detail than that. Just that it was delicious, wanted, and made him harder than the climb up Sundermount.

 

His own loose pants were swiftly opened and peeled just low enough to expose his cock and ass before his shirt was expertly unbound and butterflied open.

 

“You let your hair grow out,” the voice was a spine melting husk that tingled again with familiarity. Though it was barely a bedroom whisper, and followed instantly by fingers carding through the longer black locks and lips circling now erect nipple.

 

Garrett arched, moaning deep in his chest, which was rewarded with a bite, a lick and then a move to the other. If he wasn’t hard before this, he was now. This man, whoever he was, knew his body and was playing it like a dream.

 

Long nails raked over his chest, playing with the nipple not in his mouth, the other travelled the other direction, making Hawke’s thighs twitch before weapon-roughed hands took hold of his thick erection and stroked.

 

Garrett was leaking from there, lost. His eyes closed, and his mind gave the stranger a face. The face in his mind just made him harder. The things being done to his body that man in his mind would never do. He’d never bite and play with his nipples, and he most certainly wouldn’t be stroking his cock.

 

He certainly wouldn’t have moved off the bed to roll Garrett onto his knees, nor spread his cheeks and buried his face and that wicked tongue inside him. He certainly would not have encouraged with a dark moan Garrett stroking himself to the attention his pucker was receiving, nor would he have bitten his ass appreciatively when Hawke bucked as a finger pressed inside and stroked over his spot in a move that had to have been practiced on many men in the past.

 

He certainly wouldn’t have responded to the name moaned out the way he did.

 

“Carver….” Garrett breathed out, pumping his length faster at times, then slower to hold on to the pleasure. The man in his mind, the one he lost to the Wardens, the only one he ever truly desired beyond his own life. His brother. So clearly with his eyes shut could he imagine the man above him, fucking him with two fingers and stretching so perfectly to be his…

 

“Brother.”

 

Garrett almost came as the voice melted over him. His voice. _Carver’s_ voice. It hit him like an Ogre. The arms. The blue. The hands. Those lips. That voice. That maker damned _smell_. The smell of hay and the lingering mountain rain. The smell of blood tainted leather and salt.

 

Hawke came hard in his hands and against the quilt under his knees, but only managed to offer his ass up more to the younger man still skilfully preparing him. He wanted this. Maker.

 

He _needed_ this.

 

“I’m ready,” Garrett groaned against the pillow by his head, his knees parting more to give both a better angle and less strain to hold. He tried to open his eyes, and through the blur of his lashes and the happy tears in his eyes the other man pulled off that mask and then there was heaven.

 

There was a scar on his face, deep red and new, but it was him. And Carver’s hands didn’t waste any time moving back to his hips and guiding his perfectly thick cock against his hole.

 

“Scream my name, brother. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

 

And scream he did as Carver pressed his entire length inside his older brother in one, painfully pleasurable move. Garrett held his breath while he did, nerves exploding like fireworks as they all focused on the sensation of the dream coming true in that moment.

 

Carver was longer than both Anders and Fenris. Thicker too. Though as Hawke rolled his hips back and let his body squeeze he felt something else unexpected. Carver was thicker in the middle than he was at the tip and it made the feeling just that much more incredible.

 

“I said _scream_ ,” Carver repeated, driving all thoughts out of Garrett’s brain as he pulled out just barely and jerked himself back deep into his brother’s body.

 

“CARVER!” Garrett did scream, letting the breath he’d held escape in one, desperate wail. He could see stars. No amount of magic had ever made him feel this good. There weren’t any words after then, just grunts and whimpers of ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘right there’ as Carver used his cock in a way Garrett had never thought possible.

 

The slow pull out followed by the quick slap of flesh against flesh as he pounded back in made both men dizzy with pleasure and the room swell with sweat and sex. Carver’s tight grip on Hawke’s hips were enough to leave bruises at the beginning but now slacked with the slick of sweat.

 

Carver leaned over his brother’s form, not letting up his rocking for a moment. One hand pulled his Garrett up to lay and share a claiming kiss while the other stroked down and over his chest, over those abs and took the older man’s cock in his own hand.

 

Garrett could do nothing but moan, rocking back on his brother’s length then back up into that hand. Surrendering utterly to the kisses. He was so on edge, so very close to his end that he couldn’t offer warning. It was only when his body tightened and his balls drew up that he felt Carver quicken and pulse, spilling first inside him before Garrett exploded with his second, and decidedly more satisfying climax of the night.

 

He hadn’t even realised he’d passed out from the white of his bliss until he opened his eyes and saw his brother’s smiling, near smirking face as the warm cloth in his hand cleared the dribbles of still drying come from his skin.

 

“What?” Garrett found himself asking, reaching out to touch and make sure he wasn’t a dream.

 

“You don’t remember what you said, do you?” Carver countered, not stopping the clean up.

 

“If it wasn’t ‘ _yes, fuck me harder brother,’_ then no, I don’t. Why? What did I say?”

 

Instead of simply telling him, Carver’s eyes creased and he put the cloth away. The kiss pressed to his lips soon after was heartbreakingly soft and sweet.

 

“I love you too,” He whispered in that first bedroom voice he heard in the ballroom. “And if it keeps the other assholes away,” Carver paused for obvious dramatic effect, making sure his older brother was listening closely.

 

“I might even stay a while longer.”


End file.
